Off Limits Collection

by Jane Anthony

  Chapter Five

  JILLIAN

  AJ and Jameson both washed up, and then retreated to the office to eat their lunch on the couch. “You guys got plans for Fourth of July weekend?” Jameson asked between bites of food.

  “Nah, not really. Gonna close up the shop. Looking forward to the time off,” AJ replied.

  “Oh, yeah? That should be cool. You know, I heard Megadeth is playing at the Arts Center. Lawn seats are probably cheap as hell. We should go.” My ears perked up like a puppy, and my stomach coiled with excitement. Megadeth was my absolute favorite band. My dad took AJ and me to a concert in the city once a few years ago, and I would have loved to see them again.

  On the surface, my dad seemed like a normal guy, but his love of heavy metal turned him into a head banging hard rock fanatic. As soon as he felt we were old enough to handle the crowd, he dragged us to every concert he could. I guess you could say rock music was in our blood.

  “I don’t know, man. Driving down the shore on Fourth of July weekend sounds like a nightmare.”

  “AJ, live a little. C’mon, it will be a blast!” The desperate sound of my own voice irritated me. I hated having to beg my brother for a night out, but he needed a fun weekend just as badly as I did, if not more. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my song list until I found the one I was looking for. Dave Mustaine’s raunchy growl of filled the small office. AJ rolled his eyes, but I knew I’d convinced him.

  “All right, we’ll go. Go online and grab some tickets and find a hotel. May as well stay overnight.”

  I did a little happy dance in my seat as I swung back to the computer to check out Ticketmaster. An overnight stay down the shore sounded amazing, but the thought of sleeping in such tight quarters with Jameson awakened the kind of smutty thoughts you only read about in trashy romance novels. I didn't have a lot of physical experience, but I had an imagination that could make a sailor blush. I was almost grateful that AJ would be with us so I didn't make a complete fool of myself.

  AJ finished the rest of his lunch and dropped the soiled dish on the desk, knowing I'd wash it for him later. "Thanks for lunch, sis," he said with an appreciative little head pat. I shooed him away and he headed out through the back door of the office wearing a goofy grin.

  Jameson popped the lid back on his Tupperware and stood, stretching his long body up to the ceiling. I watched his muscles flex as he reached for the sky, catching a glimpse of his firm stomach as his shirt rose. Well-worn jeans hung so low on his hips that the band of his boxers peeked out from underneath. A trim little happy trail disappeared beneath them, and I suddenly knew how the silly stream of hair got its name. The sight didn’t just make me happy; I was downright ecstatic. He was all lean muscle, ink, and grease wrapped up into one tantalizing package that I wanted to unwrap. Slowly.

  He groaned releasing the tension in his stretch and my body shuddered. The sound was like heaven. I wanted to hear more of it, preferably coming from my bedroom. Jesus, I was starting to feel like a head case.

  “Jill?”

  The sound of my name brought me back from my day-cation la la land. “I’m sorry, what?” I felt like a dumbass. He’s trying to talk to me, but I’m too busy drooling on my desk to notice.

  Jameson flashed a wry grin. Yeah, he totally caught me checking him out. “What should I do with this?” he said, holding up the empty bowl.

  “Oh, uh, just leave it here next to AJ’s. I’ll take care of it.” I pointed to the corner of my desk where AJ had dropped his just a few moments prior.

  Jameson walked around the desk and placed the bowl next to the other one. The combination of oil, spice, and laundry detergent tingled in my nostrils as he leaned over my shoulders. Muscular arms came from behind me, and his hands rested on the arms of the chair. “Thanks, Jill. It was delicious.”

  The deep timbre of his voice tickled my ear, and my palms grew damp. His fingertips grazed up my arm as he stood again, trailing across the nape of my neck and causing chills to break out over my skin. I heard the shop door slap, and I blew out the breath I’d been holding since I felt him get close.

  His erratic behavior was maddening. He was a mix between sweet and aloof, with some sexual undertones added in for flavor. I had no clue what to make of all of it. Did he feel the same instant connection I did the minute he entered the room, or was it just a game to see how many shades of pink he could turn my cheeks?

  Three days ago, my life was simple, albeit boring, but at least, I didn't have these burning questions on my mind and between my thighs keeping me awake at night.

  Every time I closed my eyes, images of Jameson Tate touching me in ways no man ever had flashed through my mind. His lips devouring mine and his hands caressing my body all over. Part of me wondered what would happen if I acted on my impulses and told him these secret desires. Would one night with him quench my thirst, allowing me to return to my normal state of mind?

  I sighed restlessly knowing I’d never know the answers to these questions because I was too much of a coward to ever tell him about the power he had over me.

  The deep rumbling of the engine could be heard a split second before the car appeared, and I knew Jameson had arrived. I’d confirmed the motel reservations, and double and triple checked that I had the concert tickets in my bag. The weekend of the concert was finally here, and I was so excited I felt like I could burst.

  As the weeks flew by, Jameson proved himself to be a great asset around the shop. He was an excellent mechanic and wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. The three of us developed a flawless working relationship. I’d take the orders and they’d fill them.

  AJ hadn’t said much about it, but I knew he was looking forward to the concert as much as I was. As the days grew nearer, he seemed easier to smile, joking around almost like he once did. I even heard him from the hallway, warbling a hatchet job rendition of “Sweating Bullets” in the shower the other day. Having Jameson at the shop wasn’t only having an effect on me, but it was making a marked improvement on AJ’s attitude as well. He was less broody than he was before. He would never admit it, but he was happy Jameson had returned.

  “AJ, let’s go!” I called out as Jameson’s car appeared in front of our house. I grabbed my backpack and walked out the door to greet him. He stepped out of his car when he saw me emerge from the house, his gorgeous lips curved into a smile. “Holy hell, that shirt rules!” Written across his broad chest were the words This One Goes to Eleven. I laughed at the This Is Spinal Tap movie reference that most people our age would never understand. It was an unspoken bond shared by only us. Three old souls born too late.

  I slid into the red leather bucket seat of the Mustang and checked out the interior. It was original except for the CD player added under the dash. The smells of exhaust and Jameson washed over me as I breathed deep, a combination that was both vintage and new at the same time and was quickly becoming my favorite fragrance.

  AJ crawled into the expansive backseat, tipping his hat over his face and sprawling out like he was in a five-star hotel, and Jameson slipped into the driver’s side right after. “You ready kids?!” he said, rubbing his hands together. His childlike excitement made me grin.

  “What kind of tunes do you have in here?” The shiny silver discs glinted in the sunlight as I flipped through pages of Jameson’s CD book. Funny how even now something as modern as compact discs seemed retro when compared to iPods and flash drives. I briefly considered vocalizing that concept but decided against it.

  I pulled out a disc and popped it into the slender opening of the CD player. Heavy drumbeats and loud ruckus guitar playing filled the cab while I nodded along. Jameson began to sing under his breath, subconsciously playing air guitar on the steering wheel. I kicked off my shoes and put my feet up on the dash. For the first time since I could remember, I felt young and free.

  The idea of being nineteen in a house with no parents breathing down your neck was highly overrated. On the contrary, AJ and I in that big h
ouse without them was lonely. All of that space was suffocating.

  Their bedroom door remained closed. Neither of us ventured that far down the hall. It was almost as if we were scared. Death awaited all who entered. Instead, we just went about our business pretending this was normal behavior.

  I'd never complain, though. Every day I was thankful that our parents left us with a roof over our heads and a steady source of income. We were incredibly lucky and much better off than many other people would be in our situation, but that didn’t change the fact that I missed out on being young. All my friends scattered to the colleges of choice, pledged sororities, and waved their little pom-poms at Homecoming while I managed a broken-down auto shop and took care of my damaged older brother. I would never change it, but it was nice to be able to escape it for a while.

  JAMESON

  I loved my car. I used the word love — the emotion that trumps all other emotions, the end all be all of feelings — to describe that vehicle. I loved it as a mother loves her baby, as a yuppie loves money, as most of Texas loves Jesus. I never realized, though, how intensified that love could get until Jillian Morello was sitting shotgun inside of it.

  My gaze kept shifting her way from the corner of my eye. She was stretched out on the seat like it was designed specifically for her. Her arms were up over her head and draped over the back of the seat, her bare legs curved up toward the dash. Her child-size feet bopped along with the beat coming from the speakers and, fuck me, she’d painted her toenails pink. It was so unlike her, but something about that color against her skin drove me nuts. My brain started contemplating the other parts of her that might be that same shade, and my dick jerked in my pants. I was probably going to run off the road and kill us all, but I couldn’t stop peeking over to check her out.

  The Arts Center was packed even though we arrived with plenty of time to spare. We drank beer and listened to CDs until it was time to go in. Jillian wasn’t technically old enough to drink but that didn’t make a difference to me. I could tell by her cute little giggle that she had a nice buzz going as we walked up the steep hill to get to the top of the grassy area.

  The opening act was a local band I hadn’t heard before. While they seemed pretty decent, I didn’t really pay that close attention. As soon as Jillian started to dance, everything else stopped. She was swaying her hips back and forth to the rhythm of the music and shaking her sweet ass. I stealthily readjusted myself, hoping like hell AJ didn’t catch a glimpse of me eyeballing his sister. Guilt washed over me, as if I was somehow betraying him, but I convinced myself looking was not the same as touching. A technicality, but hell, it worked for me.

  The concert was amazing; Megadeth kicked major ass. We raised our lighters in memory of Mr. Morello during “A Tout le Monde,” and when the bass line for “Peace Sells” suddenly started right after, the three of us lost our minds. By the end of the show, we were screaming along with every song and pumping our fists in unison.

  The post-show buzz carried us down the hill when it was over. Jillian’s midnight hair blew in the evening breeze as she and AJ walked a few steps ahead. I just hung back as they discussed the show, watching in awe at the way they interacted with each other.

  There was this stereotype I heard once that Italians talk with their hands. Jillian talked using her whole body. She was always so animated; her excitement was infectious. I’d never seen anyone come alive quite the same way she did.

  AJ’s different. Quiet and calm. He just listened, a look of adoration on his face, as his sister went on about Dave Mustaine’s vocals and how getting booted out of Metallica was the best thing to ever happen to heavy metal. The bond between them was so unique. When we were kids, wherever AJ went was where Jillian wanted to be. I didn’t have many memories of AJ that didn’t include her. She was his shadow. He never fought it or told her to get a life. He genuinely liked having her around. I was happy they had each other. I knew first hand that having no one sucked.

  A cold wind blew through the parking lot. Jill’s shoulders shot damn near up to her ears. “You cold?”

  “A little bit,” she replied, shivering in her tank top and shorts.

  I grabbed my sweatshirt from the backseat and hung it over her shoulders. It was huge on her, but damn, she looked adorable in it. It was a contrast to the kickass tough chick who was banging her head like a beast just a short time ago. I zipped up the front, rubbing her arms to seal in the warmth.

  “How’s that, cutie?”

  “Better,” she said, with a sigh and a smile. I held the door open as she got in the car, then slammed it shut before jogging around to my own side.

  The ride back to the hotel was quick, and AJ had already sacked out in the backseat. It was clear he was exhausted, but Jillian seemed like she was getting a second wind. “I’m beat, guys. I’m heading up. You coming or what?” AJ said, stretching his legs in the parking lot.

  Jillian’s stomach made a noise. “I’m actually hungry. You wanna come to the boardwalk with me and get some pizza?”

  “Yeah, I’ll go. AJ, you want us to bring you something back?”

  “Nah, you go ahead. I’ll see ya guys in a bit.” AJ turned and started up the steps to the second-floor motel room the three of us were sharing for the night. He was leaving us alone together. That might not seem like a big deal, but for AJ, it was huge. The guy was quiet, almost like he was lost in his own head, but he wasn’t. He silently watched, taking in everything around him. I’d earned his trust and there was no way I was going to break it.

  I turned back to Jillian. “Let’s do it,” I said.

  Chapter Six

  JILLIAN

  Jameson and I headed toward the boardwalk side by side, our arms brushing together as we walked. The air was crisp and salty from the ocean, the smell of food wafting from the boardwalk as we approached. Carnival rides spun in the distance. People weaved around us laughing and talking, pushing baby carriages, carrying enormous stuffed prizes, or eating the various delicacies that only the Jersey Shore offered. We made it to Jenks and found an empty table. “I’ll go up. What do you want?” he asked me.

  “Um, just a slice and a Coke. Thanks!”

  “Okay, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere,” he said with a wink, flashing me his adorable lopsided smirk. I didn’t bother to mention that I had no intention of leaving. The only place I wanted to be was wherever he was.

  As soon as I was out of his line of sight, I brought his sweatshirt up to my nose and inhaled deeply. The clean smell of Jameson surrounding me was more warming than the jacket itself.

  Balancing the pizza and drinks in his large hands, he came back to the table and set everything down between us. A warm wind blew off the Atlantic. The sleeves on the oversized jacket kept falling past my hands, but I refused to take it off. His long fingers wrapped gently around my wrist. “Here, let me help,” he said, rolling the sleeve of the sweatshirt up, then extending his palm for my other arm. “There, how’s that?”

  I nodded; the fact that he was still holding my hand not lost on me. His calloused thumb moved in a small circular motion along my palm sending an army of tingles up my arm. His sea green gaze landed on mine. Was he looking for approval? If so, he had it. It didn't matter what he wanted; my answer was always yes.

  The pizza in front of me was a lot less interesting than it was two minutes prior. My eyes silently dared him to make a move, to say something, to do anything. I took a breath and chewed my bottom lip hoping this moment between us lasted. His stare fell to my mouth, then his gaze dropped to the steady rise and fall of my chest.

  Something I couldn’t quite place flashed across his face. Want? Need? Before I could figure it out, he tore his eyes away and dropped my hand. “We should start getting back.” He rose from the table and threw his empty plate in the trash nearby, leaving me sitting breathless and wondering what I did wrong.

  Jameson walked ahead of me on the way back to the motel, his hands shoved firmly into his pockets, not sayi
ng a word about our almost moment. I was practically running to keep up with him, his long strides taking up much more ground than my short ones. “Jameson, wait!” I shouted. He stopped and paused a beat before turning to face me. “Why are you running from me?” I caught up to him and stood catching my breath. “Do you want to explain to me what the hell that was all about?”

  “What what was about?” he asked, a look of surprise shadowing his face.

  Was he serious? This hot-cold BS was starting to get a little old. “Are you screwing with me?” I threw my hands up and let them drop at my sides.

  He looked at me like I was crazy. “Is that what you think I’m doing, Jillian?” He cocked his head to the side as he continued. “Do you feel screwed with?” His taunting manner made me switch from wanting to mount him to wanting to scratch his eyes out.

  I looked at him through narrowed slits. His sarcasm was not appreciated. “Go to hell, Jameson. Better yet, just go fuck yourself.” As I stormed past him down the length of the boardwalk, I heard his heavy footsteps coming closer to me and knew there was no way I could outrun him, but dammit if I didn’t try.

  “Jillian, stop!” he yelled, curling his fingers around my bicep. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m a dick, okay? I’m just ... tired. Let’s just go back to the motel and forget this happened. Please?” His eyes softened. They were begging me for forgiveness for whatever was going on inside that head of his.

  I rolled my eyes and blew out an exasperated huff. “All right, dick, let’s go.”

  JAMESON

  I honestly had no idea why I was picking a fight with Jillian at that exact moment. Like I said, I’m a dick. It was just so much easier to have her mad at me than to try to explain my messed-up reasoning for the way I was acting. I had no control over myself when she was around, and it was becoming more obvious day by day. When she told me to go fuck myself and stormed away, I was both shocked and aroused. Ridiculous, I know, but hearing such dirty words from such a sweet little mouth was sexy as hell. It was clear she wasn’t going to take any of my shit, and that kind of confidence was a major turn-on. I was pretty sure I’d met my match.